Yours, Sherlock
by accio-feels
Summary: Sherlock finds a letter written to Molly Hooper when he visits her flat as part of a case. The nature of the letter confuses Sherlock. Rated T because I rate everything T because I don't really understand the rating system.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Hey darling reader!_

_Before I start this, I just wanted to let you know that I found this half written yesterday. It's inspired by the song "_I'm Going to Sit Right Down and Right Myself a Letter" _sung by Frank Sinatra. I'm pretty sure you can figure it out what it's going to be about. I've tried to salvage it, but I dunno. Tell me what you think of the story :)_

_Enjoy_

_X_

* * *

><p><em>My darling Molly Hooper,<em>

_I hope you're feeling better after your migraine yesterday. I was going to stop by with flowers and some chocolate but they are menial and ill-thought-out. I thought about what you'd much rather receive and decided to write you a letter, one that'll knock you off your feet._

_Firstly, we must address the main issue in this. I am not the type to knock people off their feet. I more push them over and I do not wish to push you over._

_The second issue is that, as immaculate as my vocabulary is, there is a deficiency to place the words so precisely that they could bewitch the page and lift the delicately placed letters to form patterns of immaculate grace to which you'd see what I see._

_As well as the above points, I don't know what to say to someone that brightens my day every time I see them. What am I supposed to say to someone I love? I love you? How irksome and bland._

_Molly, overall, this letter was to inform you that I'm thinking of you and I hope you feel better. I didn't want to bother you with this so I thought it best that I write it to you._

_For now, I leave you here. I'll stop by the morgue tomorrow and ask in person if you're feeling better._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock Holmes._

_X_

~oOo~

Molly Hooper led Sherlock Holmes into her house and over to the lounge room.

"I don't think you understand. I need a statement, not tea," Sherlock grumbled out.

"R-right," Molly told him ringing her fingers. "W-well, it all started about a month ago. Remember when I got that migraine?"

"Not in the least." Sherlock leaned back in his seat and glared at Molly. She was wasting time he didn't have. She nodded and looked at the ground.

Molly stumbled over her prepared words. "Yes, well, it was about a month ago. I was sitting in the lab, trying to keep my head from bursting when a voice came from the door way. I decided to go to the loo because I didn't want to listen to the voice."

"What did that voice say?" he asked with impatience.

"Voice?"

"You said there was a voice in the doorway."

"No, it was Jim. He was there. H-he- I'm sorry, I'm going to get some tea," she told Sherlock, tears welling in her eyes. He waved her off before rolling his eyes.

Sherlock groaned and looked around Molly's flat. Piece of paper was sticking out from under the couch and he leaned down to pick it up.

_My darling Molly Hooper,_

Who would write this to her? Sherlock felt his face scrunch in disgust. Young female, based on the paper, writing and the pen used. He sat down and continued to read.

_I hope you're feeling better after your migraine yesterday. I was going to stop by with flowers and some chocolate but they are tedious and ill-thought-out. I thought about what you'd much rather receive and decided to write you a letter, one that'll knock you off your feet._

So it seemed that _someone _cared about her migraine. They cared enough to write a letter and almost bought her flowers. However, Sherlock agreed with the author. Flowers were tedious. Nonetheless, Molly loved flowers. As for a letter that will knock one off one's feet, that's a rather large assumption to make.

_Firstly, we must address the main issue in this. I am not the type to knock people off their feet. I more push them over and I do not wish to push you over._

This person was not thinking about what Molly wanted to hear. One does not mention abuse in a "sweet" letter.

_The second issue is that, as immaculate as my vocabulary is, there is a deficiency to place the words so precisely that they could bewitch the page and lift the delicately placed letters to form patterns of immaculate grace to which you'd see what I see._

The question becomes "what are you trying to achieve by this paragraph of a sentence?" there were too many irrelevant words. The author is unable to write their feelings down. There. Simple. A better sentence would be 'I regret to inform you, your cat died.' It was simple, effective, and got the point across with ease.

_As well as the above points, I don't know what to say to someone that brightens my day every time I see them. What am I supposed to say to someone I love? I love you? How irksome and bland._

No. No, no, no, no, **_no_**. Not to Molly Hooper. That is the wrong thing to say to her. You don't express your feelings towards her as irksome and bland. That is inconsiderate and overall, plain rude. Even Sherlock had more sense than that. Molly would be thrilled to be told that the author loves her. Isn't that just the type of thing she fantasises about? She doesn't want to be with someone who thinks love is irksome.

_Molly, overall, this letter was to inform you that I'm thinking of you and I hope you feel better. I didn't want to bother you with this so I thought it best that I write it to you._

That sounded very Molly. She wouldn't want to bother someone by intruding on their day when it is irrelevant. Furthermore, she'd say something sweet such as "thinking of you" and "didn't want to bother you". Whoever this person was, they were very similar to Molly.

_For now, I leave you here. I'll stop by the morgue tomorrow and ask in person if you're feeling better._

Sherlock had never seen anyone else come into the morgue before. Molly always looked surprised whenever the door opened. Why would someone say they'd go to the morgue to check up on her? The better solution was to wait for her. Sherlock was rather sure that Molly had written this herself. It made nothing but sense.

_Yours,_

He had decided it was a young woman who cared about Molly very much. This was a semi-romantic letter, to be frank. Sherlock could write so much better than this cheap knock-off. As he was about to call out to Molly that she should drop whoever had written the letter, he reached the final words.

_Sherlock Holmes._

_X_

The man looked down at the paper and read the final, burning words. What on earth? His head raced as he thought about what had been written.

Molly wrote this, no doubt about it. Speak of the devil…

The young woman walked in from the kitchen holding two mugs. She sniffled and placed one in front of Sherlock, the other still in her hand.

"J-Jim said: 'Did you miss me? Because I sure missed you, Molly Hooper'. I couldn't handle it. I assumed it was part of my imagination and walked to the bathroom. I called Mike on the walk and told him I was feeling terrible, to the point of hallucinations. He offered to walk me out to a cab and I agreed straight away. I didn't wait to see if Jim was a hallucination or not," she recalled, feeling sick to her stomach. "But then, I arrived home to find the door slightly ajar so I texted Lestrade and told him I thought something was off. I walked into the flat and-"

Sherlock nodded along. "I don't need to know anymore. Donovan offered to listen. She has a way with women, or something. I don't really care what she does. Right," Sherlock said while standing up, ignoring the mug in front of him. "I best be off. See you in the morgue."

He padded out of the flat as Molly started to break down in tears again.

~oOo~

It had been three months since Jim first approached Molly, and two months since Sherlock walked out on the crying woman. She had experienced another migraine again, something Sherlock was quick to make note on.

The morning after her migraine, she found a letter slipped under her door.

_Doctor Molly Hooper,_

_It came to my attention you experienced a migraine yesterday._

_Now, I'm well aware that you're "into" letters that will knock you off your feet. Let's be reasonable when we consider who has written this, alright?_

_I wanted to wish you a full recovery. I would have, of course, come and seen you in the morgue to check you were feeling better, but I know you'd feel intimidated._

_As well as your love of having letters that will knock you off your feet, I am also well aware that you enjoy "love letters", something I find both disturbing and ridiculous. My apologies._

_Nonetheless, I am aware it is customary to end with specific words, and I know they are words you associate with me. I'll come by the morgue tomorrow to see how you're feeling._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock Holmes._

Molly's jaw dropped as she read the letter, he cheeks heating up. What the hell did this mean? She paled as she thought about connections it had to a certain letter she had written to herself.

She spun around and began to look for the letter, tearing things apart as she went. All her efforts were to no avail. The letter was sitting on Sherlock's bedside table.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Hey darling reader!_

_So this is back because a Guest asked oh so nicely for another chapter and I thought "why not?" and then I was thinking of ideas and I had a fabby dabby one! So, let me know what you think!_

_I'm thinking of adding one, maybe two, more chapters on, because (no spoilers) Molly is always being embarrassed around Sherlock and I don't really think that's very fair. As fab as Sherlock is, Molly is even more fabber._

_Alright, let's not let me ramble. Here's part two._

_Enjoy_

_X_

* * *

><p>The next time Molly Hooper saw Sherlock Holmes, it was after he sauntered into her office, John on his tail, and a look of superiority and smugness. Of course, Molly couldn't help the blush that spread across her cheeks.<p>

"M-morning, Sherlock," she managed, looking down at her paper work.

The detective smiled at her as he approached her. Molly knew that smile as his 'I need a body and I'll do as I please' smile. She felt her stomach drop as he began to talk. "Same to you, Molly. And you are you today after your migraine?"

She felt her cheeks heat up even more and she nodded. "I'm alright, thank you. What body do you need?"

"I need to see Cullum Turners body. Mike texted me, said I might be interested," he told her before looking over at John.

The doctor nodded from behind Sherlock, perplexed at the odd interaction between Molly and Sherlock. "And we'll need to pop into the lab later, too."

~oOo~

As Sherlock sat behind a microscope, John running various tests as per Sherlock's demands, he kept glancing at Molly with upturned lips and a glint in his eye that said 'I know something you don't know'. To be honest, it was driving Molly up the wall.

After what felt like hours, Sherlock stood up.

"Alright, I think I have enough to go on," he said.

John looked over at Sherlock and nodded. "These tests are pretty conculsive. I say, we go back to the crime scene, tell Lestrade what we've got, and head home for tea and scones."

"I'm not eating scones," Sherlock grumbled as he pulled on his coat.

The doctor sighed and pulled his coat on as well. "Well, you don't have to have scones. Mrs Hudson and I will eat the scones and you can have coffee. Black like your heart and two sugars because you're not all bitter."

Molly bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh or smile. She knew Sherlock wouldn't react well, or if John saw, it would encourage him.

"Mrs Hudson's going to be there, too?" He frowned and shook his head. "No. No. No scones, no tea, no coffee, no Mrs Hudson. We're doing experiments when we get home. I've still got a bag of phalanges and I'm not wasting my time eating scones when there are fingers and toes to cook in various ways and to try acid and alkaline on."

"I don't think you're going to have a great effect with the alkaline. Do you have really strong solutions?" John asked as they approached the exit.

Sherlock sighed. "Of course, John. Don't be so daft." He paused for a moment rolled his eyes. "Actually, John, there is something I have to discuss with Molly. Go get a cab and wait for me. I'll only be a moment."

The detective turned around and the doctor frowned before continuing to walk out of the room. Molly looked up at the approaching detective and forced a smile.

"What can I do for you, Sherlock?" she asked.

He pulled something out of his pocket and placed it down on her desk. "I've been thinking of being a teacher or something, to share my many skills in the world and you, Doctor Hooper, are my lucky, first client. Now, I have a sample of your writing and I have marked it so you know what you're doing and so you can do a better job next time," he said with a smirk. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Once he had left the room, Molly looked at the folded sheet of paper resting on her desk. She reached forward, her hand trembling as she grabbed it. When she unfolded it, she dropped it like it was hot.

"Oh no."

_My darling Molly Hooper,_

_**Not a good start. Given the fact the author has never called the recipient "darling", I do not suggest it starts now.**_

_I hope you're feeling better after your migraine yesterday. I was going to stop by with flowers and some chocolate but they are tedious and ill-thought-out. I thought about what you'd much rather receive and decided to write you a letter, one that'll knock you off your feet._

_**The author wouldn't have mentioned flowers and chocolate and that they are tedious. Sure, the author may feel that way, but it is rather rude to put that in a letter, agreed?**_

_Firstly, we must address the main issue in this. I am not the type to knock people off their feet. I more push them over and I do not wish to push you over._

_**I have no words to describe this stupidity. What made you think the author would imply in any way that they'd want to push you over? A better way of phrasing this would be "Firstly, we must address the main issue. I am not the type to knock people off their feet. When I try, I get called a freak or told to piss off." See? That's both concise and lets the reader know a little more about the author without saying the author is a violent person.**_

_The second issue is that, as immaculate as my vocabulary is, there is a deficiency to place the words so precisely that they could bewitch the page and lift the delicately placed letters to form patterns of immaculate grace to which you'd see what I see._

_**I don't even understand what this is meant to mean. All I'm getting is that the author is an idiot with a wide vocabulary. It's one big confusing sentence. I'd recommend the removal.**_

_As well as the above points, I don't know what to say to someone that brightens my day every time I see them. What am I supposed to say to someone I love? I love you? How irksome and bland._

_**No. This is all wrong. Given the intended recipient, calling feelings for them "irksome and bland" really isn't going to get in their good books. Anyone who's ever met the intended recipient would know that describing their feelings for them in that way is just rude. Refrain from rudeness in the future. Just say that it's difficult to express emotions, or something along those lines**_

_Molly, overall, this letter was to inform you that I'm thinking of you and I hope you feel better. I didn't want to bother you with this so I thought it best that I write it to you._

_**Well, if that's the point of it all, it should have been addressed throughout it or just a simple "Molly, I'm thinking about you and I hope you recover as soon as possible."**_

_For now, I leave you here. I'll stop by the morgue tomorrow and ask in person if you're feeling better._

_**If that's the plan, why did you bother mentioning the gifts?**_

_Yours,_

_**Use of 'yours' implies romantic attachment. No doubt what you were trying to achieve but, really, given the circumstances, best not to imply things, especially when it's hardly mentioned. In fact, any mention of romantic attachment was squashed with "irksome and bland".**_

_Sherlock Holmes._

_**Forgery. Shame on you.**_

_X_

_**Given my response to the use of 'yours', I'm sure you can find **_anything _**other than an 'x' to put there. Why would the author leave a kiss when they destroyed all hope of romantic attachment? You may light up their day, but they also called you "irksome and bland". Had this not be a forgery, I'd recommend dumping the person in question.**_

_**Overall, I liked nothing of this. It seemed rather ill-thought out, insensitive, and rude. It was out of character for the author and would have made anyone who read it assume it was a fake.**_

_**32% (which is dreadful, no matter what society you live in)**_

Molly read over the corrected letter and felt herself pale. Was nothing private anymore?


	3. Chapter 3

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_You are the most selfish, arrogant, stupid, manipulative, ridiculous prat. How dare you walk into my morgue and make demands like you own the place? If I want to give you body bits, then you better be bloody grateful._

_I am so done with you coming in and demanding things. You are a disappointment and a disgrace. You make me feel sick, you make me feel dirty just knowing you._

_If you come back into the morgue, I'm calling security. I will do anything to get away from you. I'm an intelligent person and I will do whatever I can to keep you away from me._

_I regret my role in your death._

_Doctor Molly Hooper._

~oOo~

"Afternoon, Molly," Sherlock said as he walked into the morgue, John still following behind him.

Molly was elbow-deep in the torso of Jeff Dodd. She looked up at the detective and felt her cheeks heat and her blood boiled. "Sherlock," she all but spat back.

After a confused look at John, Sherlock shrugged and walked over to the body.

"Heart attack," he told her before crossing his arms. "I'm going to need a heart. His is fine."

Molly snickered and started to clean up. "Yes, you do," she muttered to herself.

He shot her a nasty look before composing himself and putting a smile on. "Molly, you are looking so beautiful today. I love your hair like that."

"Compliments won't get you a heart, tin man," she replied before finishing up the autopsy and walking out of the morgue.

Sherlock looked over at John. "It appears I have done something to make Molly upset. I think it's best if you go." He turned around and walked after Molly, following her to her office.

She slammed the door, his nose moments away from being clipped. He opened the door and followed her in, closing it behind him.

"Go away, Sherlock. I'm not giving you any body part," she said while sitting down in her chair behind her desk.

He sighed and sat down in front of the desk, frowning at her. "What have I done?" he asked.

"W-what have you done?!"' she asked, fuming. "I'll tell you what you've done. You have embarrassed me so much! You have made me feel so insignificant and as someone who has no problem of being made a mockery of! I don't like it, Sherlock! I don't appreciate it! Now, for God's sake, get out until you can behave in a proper manner! I don't want you back in the morgue until you can treat me with some freakin' respect!" she yelled.

Sherlock was taken aback. "I-" he frowned as he realised he didn't have a case to argue.

Instead, he stood up and walked out, leaving Molly alone.

~oOo~

John walked into the morgue and found Molly finishing up an autopsy.

"Morning, Molly," he said as he approached her.

She looked up and smiled at him. It had been two weeks since she last saw the Baker Street Boys in her morgue. "Morning, John! What can I do for you?"

"Sherlock's not coming, by the way," he said before pulling something out of his pocket. "Just me. I found something when I visited Sherlock. I don't know anything about it and I didn't really want to talk to Sherlock about it." He placed a crumpled piece of paper on the table and frowned.

Molly looked down at it and frowned as well. "Alright. I'll look at it and call you later," she told him.

He gave her a small smile and nodded. "Alright. I'll see you soon then. I'd give you a hug… but, well…"

She laughed and looked down at herself. "I wouldn't hug me, either!"

"Bye, Molly," he called as he left.

~oOo~

Molly looked down at the crumpled paper and sighed. She didn't think it could be anything good at all.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

She knew she shouldn't make assumptions, but she did on this case. This was a message "written" by Molly. From what she understood, this was like what she had done: Sherlock had written himself a letter.

_You are the most selfish, arrogant, stupid, manipulative, ridiculous prat. How dare you walk into my morgue and make demands like you own the place? If I want to give you body bits, then you better be bloody grateful._

Ok, yes, he was all of the above, and yes, he should be grateful, but she could never be so harsh to him. He had his times when he was such a kind, beautiful person. He had those times once he solved a case where he'd beam at her, tell her she was the most intelligent person he'd ever met, then (after a _very _complicated case) he'd cup her cheeks and kiss her forehead before beaming at her again and leaving. For a few days after, he'd bring chocolate, or something of equal value, as a thank you for her help.

_I am so done with you coming in and demanding things. You are a disappointment and a disgrace. You make me feel sick, you make me feel dirty just knowing you._

Oh, Molly could _never _be done with Sherlock coming in! And he most certainly wasn't a disappointment or a disgrace! Yes, sometimes he made her feel sick, she felt so bad about herself, but she also felt so happy. He couldn't have been more wrong!

_If you come back into the morgue, I'm calling security. I will do anything to get away from you. I'm an intelligent person and I will do whatever I can to keep you away from me._

Sherlock wouldn't let security keep him out. Besides, he needed to be there. It's not like there were an awful lot of morgues in London. She'd miss him, and she hoped that he'd miss her. She could never keep him away.

_I regret my role in your death._

There is nothing further from the truth about that, at all. How dare he think that?

_Doctor Molly Hooper._

She could never, EVER, finish with her title in her name. She only did that when signing official forms. Molly would never sign off on a letter like that, especially for Sherlock.


	4. Chapter 4

Mrs Hudson walked up the stairs to find Sherlock in his mind palace, wearing nothing but his sheet.

"Really, Sherlock," she said while approaching, "you should put some clothes on. It's ten o'clock. Imagine if we had company."

Sherlock sighed. "I don't get company, Mrs Hudson, as I have no friends."

"That's harsh," she scowled. "You have John, Mary, Greg, Molly, and myself!"

"Wow, a total of five!" he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He held his hand out and waited.

Mrs Hudson knew exactly what he was doing and put the letter for him on his hand. "It's from the hospital. You haven't done anything bad, have you, Sherlock?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, opening his eyes.

She rolled her eyes and walked out of the flat. Sherlock sat up and looked at the envelope.

Molly, of course. She dropped it by herself, no stamp. She wrote it at work yesterday and waited until her way to work this morning to drop it by.

He sighed and opened the envelope. Inside were two pieces of paper. The first one just said 'you're not the only teacher'. With a groan, he opened the second letter which had much less corrections than the one he made on hers.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_**If the author is going to call themselves 'doctor', then they'd call the recipient 'Mr' to reinforce the idea of superiority and more intelligence.**_

_You are the most selfish, arrogant, stupid, manipulative, ridiculous prat. How dare you walk into my morgue and make demands like you own the place? If I want to give you body bits, then you better be bloody grateful._

_**Most of this is correct, yet very harshly written. I do think you are somewhat grateful and I do think you are a selfish, arrogant, stupid, manipulative, ridiculous prat, but I don't mind.**_

_I am so done with you coming in and demanding things. You are a disappointment and a disgrace. You make me feel sick, you make me feel dirty just knowing you._

_If you come back into the morgue, I'm calling security. I will do anything to get away from you. I'm an intelligent person and I will do whatever I can to keep you away from me._

_I regret my role in your death._

_Doctor Molly Hooper._

_**Forgery. Shame on you. Jokes aside, please. I could never bring myself to call myself 'doctor'. I only do that for official forms and things for work.**_

_**Overall, I am both disappointed and disgusted with your words. It seems as though you think very little of yourself and that you need to write about it from the point of view of someone who cares for you to reduce yourself further.**_

_**The only grade I can possibly give this is a 30%. You failed to capture the real emotions and feelings of the author and you wrote a letter that does not only seem like a foolish thing to write to the recipient, but it's very stupid. I recommend next time you use that head of yours and think.**_

_**[Sherlock, really, if this is how you feel, come to the morgue as soon as you've finished reading this and after you've changed out of your sheet. You're not allowed in unless you're wearing pants.]**_

The detective finished reading it and frowned. How was Molly so smart?

~oOo~

If you asked Molly if she was expecting Sherlock to walk into the morgue, she'd laugh and say 'not a chance he'll walk through those doors!'

In fact, if you asked Molly moments before Sherlock walked in, if he'd walk in, she'd shake her head and smile. She's say something along the lines of 'he's too smart for that.'

So, of course, when Sherlock walked in through the doors, she couldn't believe her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she watched him approach her.

"Close your mouth, Molly. It's awfully unattractive," he muttered.

"Y-you're here," she gasped. "You got the letter."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Obviously. You do not have a migraine and, as such, are not hallucinating. And I prefer to come in when John's here so I have someone to carry things back to Baker Street."

Molly began to wrap her head around the fact that Sherlock was here. She stepped towards him and he frowned at her.

Her action was quick. She raised her hand and it flew towards his cheek. He could have stopped her if he wanted, but he also knew that she was angry and should get her anger out. So, he accepted the slap without complaint and allowed his face to move with her hand.

Sherlock had been slapped by Molly before; four times, including this one. But this was so much harder. Maybe he felt it more because last time he was as high as a kite. Maybe because he only had a millisecond to prepare himself it hurt less. Last time, he had several seconds.

As he turned back to face her, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer to her. If the slap had been a shock, the kiss was even more. He didn't even have time to wrap his head around the fact that Molly was kissing him when she pulled away.

"W-what was that for?" he stuttered out.

She smiled at him while letting go. "The slap was for being an absolute arse. Don't do that letter thing again. The kiss was because I care for you, Sherlock, and I'll never regret helping you out. I'll never regret having anything to do with you." She felt her cheeks heat up as she continued. "I want you near me and I could never do anything to keep you away. Not on purpose, of course." She started to fidget and continued her ramblings. "I mean, I'm sure I'd do something and you'd get angry at me and want to stay away and i-"

Sherlock interrupted her by placing his lips against hers. He put one hand on her lower back and the other on the back of her head. Molly's eyes widened before she twisted her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, her eyes fluttering shut. A few moments later, they broke apart, she opened her eyes to look at them. Their eyes locked and she smiled.

"Alright, what was _that _for?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Mostly to stop you rambling, partly because I wanted you to understand that I understood what you were saying, and partly because I wanted to," he told her. "Now, while we're here, don't suppose you can get me a heart, can you?"

Molly smiled at him and laughed. "Manipulative git. Fine. But if you want anything from the morgue again, I better get a kiss," she said, still blushing.

He leaned down and pecked her lips. "I can't imagine that'd be too hard."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_hey darling reader!_

_I did not expect that to happen, not going to lie. I was going to have Molly kiss Sherlock for the reason mentioned, but I just couldn't resist Sherlock kissing Molly. I don't really know where the last few lines came from, probably because I decided to have a happy ending for one of the first times (I'm a very angsty person, preferring everyone to be alone and unhappy than have a happy "yay! We're all in love!" ending, to be honest)._

_Alright, I'm not going to ramble in case someone tries to snog me, I shall not enjoy that, I'd imagine (not saying you're not a good kisser, but because I don't even like the concept of snogging)._

_Blerch! My apologies. That is all._

_I lied, one more thing: this is the end of the story because it is done. Thanks so much for all the fantastic reviews! I really appreciate them! Also, thanks for the favourites and follows. You rock!_

_X_


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